


Ship Your Own Adventure

by Emblue_Sparks



Series: SPN Cold Hits [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Accidental Affection, Admiring from Afar, Billie/Crowley, Bobby + Rufus, Castiel's war in hell to save Dean, Chanuka celebrations, Chapter 10: - Freeform, Chapter 1:, Chapter 2:, Chapter 3:, Chapter 4:, Chapter 5:, Chapter 6:, Chapter 7:, Chapter 8: - Freeform, Chapter 9:, Claire/Kaia - Freeform, Dean Whump, Dean/Benny - Freeform, Dean/Crowley - Freeform, Demon!Dean being Deanmon, Demons, F/M, Frienship during covid & distance learning, Happy Ending, Hellhounds, Hunting and birthdays do mix, Just erring on the side of caution, Kevin/Aaron, M/M, Martial Arts Instructor!Gadreel, Men of Letters Academy, Mick Davies + Crowley, Misunderstangs and resultions, Modeled Hell geography after Dante's Inferno, Mutual Crushes, Naked evening swim, Neverlandverse, Pining!Kaia, Professor AU, Professor!Sam, Romantic Reunion, Sam/Gadreel, Sam/eileen - Freeform, Savior!Benny, Some happiness, The reason this work has an Mature rating, Uriel is a backstabbing ahole, angel deaths, but I'm not fixing them now, canonverse, dean/cas - Freeform, dragon - Freeform, friends and family supporting and helping Sam, major whump for both dean and cas, meeting with sense of familiarity, near death for dean, not sure why these tags are misspelled and janky, pining!crowley, spousal bereavement and pining, the only reason for blurriness I'll except, their in between, then sadness, then the story you know, wraiths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29148876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emblue_Sparks/pseuds/Emblue_Sparks
Summary: A collection of my ships, not my entire collection, but those which spoke up and said "Write Me" this month.
Relationships: Billie/Crowley - Relationship, Bobby Singer & Rufus Turner, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Claire/Kaia, Crowley & Mick Davies, Dean/Crowley, Dean/benny, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Kevin/Aaron - Relationship, Sam/Gadreel - Relationship
Series: SPN Cold Hits [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2109714
Comments: 60
Kudos: 13
Collections: SPNColdestHits





	1. A Touch of Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a portion of my Armada...  
> I have an OTP and ship many others but judge none. If my ships aren't your ships that's okay! Hopefully you'll find one or two in here you might be willing to give a spin. If not, that's alright too. This was not intended to be read all at once or all of them at all, though if you do..congrats, I'm crying now thank you.
> 
> I KNOW I OVER DID IT OKAY!!!! 🙈  
> This gave me the chance to rifle through my Unfinished Business file and develop many ficlets I'd begun. Big thanks to @ioascc for the beta work on some of these. If you find mistakes, they're all mine! 
> 
> Lightning in a Bottle mention is in CHAPTER 5
> 
> Many thanks to @Levisqueaks, @TheCommunistUnicorn, and @lotrspnfangirl for all the help with the Jewish terminology and accurate celebration representation! And hugs to @redmyeyes for the AWESOME fic cover! I can't stop grinning every time I see it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has come to a favorite place of his for contemplation and hopes to see someone special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 is part of my Neverland series which shall be continued. The style I've written in is one so eloquently executed by demonoligist-in-denim, found in his Bergamot & Sulfur which is so delightful, please go check it out!

Whorls of morning fog, like deliciously horrifying talons, clung to every second before the blinding eclipse of the mornings golden rays, deceptively provided the notion a warm day was in store for the peaceful residents on the Isle of Lewis. Quietly nestled to the south on Stornoway, a small island in the outer Hebrides of Scotland, Crowley enjoyed the familiar sights and sounds of a perfect Highland morning. 

He was neither born there, nor did he in his mortal life perish there. It was simply an inviting place providing the quiet he sought for contemplation. His beloved Imperium Innocentia never ceased to fill him with wonder, and yet as of late, he'd begun to feel a worrisome unease when visiting. The loyal ferrymen were paid handsomely to usher his precious souls from there to the shores of Elysium and Asphodel Meadows. Neither Castiel nor Gabriel had reported any bumps in the proverbial road, so that couldn't be the source. 

The realm was fiercely protected by thousands of wardings and enchantments. His rambunctious rescues were all squeals and delight as their tender souls regained the sweet innocence lost, as was the realms purpose. However, when visiting recently, his grace sensed...not a presence really, but a watchfulness. As if some all seeing eye was casting itself upon it.

In need of a spot outside the sanctity of this realm to ruminate over the unsettling feeling, he was perfectly content here, within the comforting confines of this lovely cottage. There were his outings of course, his evening strolls along the well worn paths beside the sea cliffs and hikes among the dells, where he'd observe wild dogs at play. 

And _she_ was there. The ebony goddess. How, she knew when he'd also be visiting, was uncertain. Every time Crowley spied her, strolling down the lane past his garden, he was overcome with unshakable familiarity and longing. His heart seemingly wept with urgency to..well, he didn't know what he wanted to do, he just wanted to do it with her. Each time he saw her, he'd vow to approach her _the next time_. 

Perhaps she'd care for some tea..or Craig? No, no scotch wouldn't do, how would that appear? _Lovely to make to your acquaintance. May I invite you into my home for strong spirits on a whim?_ A first impression of that variety wouldn't do at all. Tea was safer. But for whom exactly? She wasn't human, despite the lovely vessel. As he watched her come over the hill during her morning stroll, the pleasant hues of orange and pink heralding the sunrise danced among the dark ringlets of hair spilling past her shoulders and across her smooth face. 

It stirred memories of antiquity within him. He saw fields in need of reaping, recalled the incredible skyscape of the night's endless starry display which shone all the more brightly than in times since. He thought of boats and long journeys across time and space. Amiable company on said journeys, experiencing profound empathy and regret over some tragic deed which tugged on his heart strings all the more. These feelings..disturbances in the force, if you will, seized him each time he was gifted with the mere vision of her.

He'd do it. Half of him was clawing at the other half to not disrupt the peaceful observances of her, to not tarnish the beauty of seeing her enjoying her walk. The other half was existing on autopilot and maddening compulsion.

Stepping over the cottage's threshold, he ghosted down the garden cobblestones to the wooden gate and waited, peering through the fog and out to the sea. Most mornings it was subdued, save for its timeless ebb and flow. Yet this morning it brought small whitecaps, as if someone had dropped a rock the size of Westminster Abby a few miles out and it's ripples were just now reaching shore.

Crowley's long dormant heart skipped a few beats as she neared. What to say? He just didn't know and his confidence seemed to wane the closer she came. If he couldn’t figure out what to say and mucked it up, why couldn't the simple notion of "ah, oh well" leave him in peace? He realized that the terror of speaking and witnessing her disappear, never to be found again was clawing at his insides...over someone he knew he hadn't met before. It was absurd!

"Not as absurd as you may think..." Her kind voice was the satisfying sweetness of honey and the comfort of home to his...soul? Being? Crowley found it profoundly pleasant, regardless.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" He asked, confounded by her comment. A wild, unpredictable power radiated from her and if it wasn't such a siren's call, Crowley knew he'd be terrified.

"I enjoy our visits," she simply left hanging.

He'd longed to ask her why she felt so familiar. Why in her presence he felt they might have been from another time altogether. A far away memory tiptoed on the edges of recollection just out of his mind's reach. Crowley would spend untold hours in contemplation, opening his mind in hopes the memory in which he sought might emerge from its shy shell and present itself. Alas, to his disappointment, none had stepped forward to claim that missing piece of neurological real estate thus far.

Crowley saw something in her eyes calling her away just as he was readying to ask, yet she stunned him by holding his face, her hand a temperature so cold it's mere touch could kill. Good thing it couldn't kill him, or give him discomfort. 

"Hold your questions. You need answers, but it will have to wait for another time. The story you seek is one you know, nevertheless it deserves to be told. I'll return."

Crowley's heart sank in disappointment. "Until next time then."

"Until next time," she repeated, appearing to be filled with as much regret as he did over whatever interruption had stalled a much desired conversation between them. 

Some glitch in the matrix tickled his brain and he found himself facing westward with a measure of peace again in the warmth of the brilliant sun stretching itself over the expanse of the Atlantic. It carved the beaches into unexpectedly tropical-esque landscapes along the coast. He shivered for the first time in an age and wondered how he'd meandered outside without realizing it. Glancing down the lane, he hoped to see her this time. The woman who always seemed to catch his eye and captivate his mind.

***

Billie heard an urgent cry layered upon the waves of panic they'd sensed, cutting into the very question for which they had been so longing for Crowley to ask. He'd been on the cusp of doing so for months, yet he felt so enamored with them, he'd feared offending them by admitting to not possessing the memories he sought to recall. Memories of them from eons before time. 

_"Dean Winchester is in the veil!"_

That boisterous reaper, Jessica, had been grating on Billie's nerves, so perhaps she'd be perfect to babysit the thorn in their side. Why a reaper was so panicked over a soul in the veil was most irritating. The Winchester, who zigged whenever he was told to zag. Yes, she was eager to prove herself under Billie's new station as Death, so Jessica would watch him, since she'd expressed such an odd concern.

It might afford them and "Crowley" as he was now called, more time to slowly reconnect the dots to their tragic past. He was a reincarnated soul from the depths of antiquity and learning the truth all at once could shatter him. 

Walking away from him was tearing their heart apart, but behind the invisible door down the lane existed matters requiring attention. They missed him...their love beyond time. Traipsing down the cold hall, they swiped their scythe along the way. They were incredibly eager to contend with the moronic trouble Dean had gotten himself into, so as to spend more time with their love. For who he truly was, was indeed worthy of remembrance. Who they used to be _together_ would utterly shock him and these things needed to be handled delicately, after all. 


	2. Sweet Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I cannot abide the logic surrounding Eileen's absence in the finale. Every actor is entitled to their opinion, as are we, the fans. Though I disagree with Jared, I'll defend his right to express his thoughts. But seeing as how this is my interpretation of this pairing, I'm giving Sam and Eileen this ending I feel they deserved because this handling of the finale among other things had me livid.

"Dad, it's okay you can go now," Dean Jr. reassured his father.

Sam had been waiting to hear those words from his son. He loved him so dearly and needed to know he was going to be alright without his mother and father. Eileen had passed when their son was in his early twenties. Sam knew he still mourned her deeply. He'd done the best he could in that odd transitional time when his son didn't need him nearly as much and had begun letting go of his painful bereavement.

And yet for Sam, the fates had been so unkind. For as his son grew and garnered a beautiful life of his own, one he happily shared with none other than Castiel Fitzgerald, his memory of Eileen began to fade. Once Dean Jr had realized it was happening, he'd prayed.

Castiel arrived and after a few tight hugs and tears of joy shed by Sam, they began to talk.

"Dean is well, although he misses you. We're happy, he and I. Eileen as well. I've heard your son's prayers. He fears you'll forget her due to your memories' condition. You sustained many concussions throughout your life. She grows..blurry for you, does she not?"

Sam was on the verge of tears. “I don't want to find the memory of her gone after losing her to..."

"Cancer." Castiel filled in the blank, "Sam, I won't let that happen. We won't let that happen."

"We?" Who else could Cas mean?

Without warning, Jody walks into his home.  
"Saam?"

He turns his head, stunned. She shouldn't be even be driving anymore let alone-

"Yo!"

Anybody home?" Claire and Kaia both called out as they too enter.

"M'in here!" He calls back, and looking at Cas he's smiling, just like he did when he was proud of peopling right.

"Thank you, Cas."

But he was already gone.

"Mind a sleepover weekend?" Claire asked, making way for Jody and her wife.

"For you guys? Never. How's the business?"

"Slow," Kaia informed with her quiet smile.

"That's great to hear."

Jody farted as she sat down on the couch. "Now that was great to hear. Been cooking that one for last hundred and fifty miles."

"Jody c'mon!" Claire gasped in feigned offense.

But Jody waved her away. "You'll stop caring when you hit my age sweetheart. Besides, I didn't have to hold it in, just be thanking your lucky stars I did."

"I haven't been able to trust a fart after forty," Sam admitted.

All of them laughed.

"Let's get this party started," Jody suggested, busting a bottle of Johnny Walker Black label from her oversized old lady purse.

"Your heart!" Kaia scolded.

"Is still ticking and someday it won't. Can't drink when I'm dead. May as well do it in memory of somebody good. Grab us some glasses girls and let's do this right.”

By the time they were half through the bottle they were in fits and giggles about the time Dean Jr had gotten in trouble at school for calling some bullies at school. A bunch of fucking low life assholes had ganged up on Cas Fitzgerald when he'd helped out with kitchen duty during lunch and had a massive reaction to the silverware he'd been asked to wash. Eileen had slipped their son a buttload of itching powder to administer and them ripping their drawers off in the middle of history class had been the best revenge ever.

By the time they were half through the bottle, the group was in fits and giggles and regaling stories of past youths…

A few weeks later, Donna paid him a visit and they talked all weekend about how badass Eileen was when hunting and when playing pool. Donna remembered a few things Sam hadn't, but instead of getting frustrated, he almost cried with joy at being reminded of such beautiful, powerful memories.

Then Garth and Bess paid him a visit one Sunday afternoon and spoke of the fantastic vegan lasagna Eileen used to make and Bess busted out the dairy free cheese cake she'd made just for Sam. It was exactly how Eileen used to make it and brought back the family birthdays they’d all held together.

Over the next few years, despite losing a few treasured friends as happens in life, the family who'd never let Sam down had continued visiting him and never failed to remind him of his beautiful wife and the life they'd been lucky to have together. Castiel would come once in a while as well, gently touching his temples, restoring his memory when it slid into blurry territory, so when Sam missed everyone he loved, none of them were far beyond his recollection.

Then the time came for Dean Jr. to say goodbye. It was quiet and peaceful, in his sleep he transitioned from life to that of his afterlife. Sam found himself walking down a lovely nature path, his knees no longer bothering him, nor his hips. Even the Gawd awful frizzy gray hair he'd stubbornly refused to cut was back to it's soft locks of yesteryear. His eyes were sharp and his ears picked up a rumble tumbly that could only mean one person.

There on a bridge waiting beside Baby, was Dean. He looked the same as the day they'd parted except for the mile wide grin on his face which Sam had missed so very much.

Before bringing him in for the biggest hug ever Dean said, "Welcome home Sammy. Tell me about that nephew of mine."

Climbing into Baby, he did just that and when they pulled up to Harvelle's Roadhouse, once again Dean was sporting a wicked smile. Bobby was sitting out front with a beer for both of them and them and said, "C'mere boy. "

After another round of feel good hugs Bobby explained, "Some people in there want to say hello."

Dean opened the rickety screen door and everyone inside yelled, "Sam!"

It was everyone they'd missed, and the face he sought in the crowd the most was beaming back at him, clearer than any other. She was his sun, his moon and stars. When she jumped and threw her arms around him, he truly was home.


	3. Playing with Fire

It wasn't the first time he'd watched Dean Winchester sleep, nor would it be the last. But he'd paid close attention when overhearing the very true sentiment expressed, "It's just creepy." Since then he'd taken extra precautions not to make the seraph's mistake.

There was something peculiar about this one human soul which fascinated him. It stirred a longing so fierce in his essence, the likes of which he hadn't felt for eons. Dean was as tenacious as any demon, yet even that tenacity refused to let go of the last vestiges of his humanity. And therein lied the problem. 

Crowley had hoped his soul becoming a demon would rid him of his stubborn conscience which so often was at odds with Crowley's idea of a good time, which it was, but not completely. So little humanity remained, and  _ oh _ , how Crowley loved howling at that moon with him. Yet on the few occasions humanity shone through, it brutally reminded him to whom he'd so fervently been drawn. When said humanity presented itself, it broke Crowley's heart.

They'd had a deliciously rambunctious role in the proverbial hay with triplets earlier that evening. Wasn't the first rodeo for Crowley, nor for Dean. But together? That was new for them both. A few times when things had reached a fever pitch, Crowley glanced at him, stunned to find Dean's black eyes fixated on him. What was in them? He couldn't tell, they were quiet and removed from the otherwise enticing goings on in the moment. 

It was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them and the sinful physical sensations they were enjoying. Combined with their eye contact, it briefly had the triplets' presence vanishing from the situation so all that existed were just the two of them and those sensations. Crowley hated admitting even to himself that he wished it really was just the two of them existing in that motel room, doing things that would scare the barflies. He needed to fall in love with Dean about much as he needed a spike up the jacksie.

But when Dean turned them out immediately afterwards, before they could barely catch their breath, it gave Crowley whiplash. Even those in the oldest trade were at least given a few awkward, neutral words of thanks accompanied by payment due. Only too late had Crowley realized the very thing he loved about Dean had diminished with his transition and he could no longer pretend this epic buddy comedy was going along swimmingly. 

Dean had fired back a fifth of whiskey, hit the lights and his pillow, the second he'd slammed the door after the trio had left. Without a word, he'd fallen asnooze and resting besides him, speechless, was the King of Hell, kept up by a "boy" of all things. No, this simply would not do. This ache carving at his insides was too great. If he couldn't have the irritated yet lovable frenemy, even sans the menage à trois, then he'd rather not have him at all. The only thing left to do was figure out how to deliver him back that Moose of a brother.

Dithering over the multitude of possibilities, Crowley completely forgot himself and in a stunning display of unintentional affection, slid his hand around Dean's waist. He froze when Dean's snoring abruptly ceased. Had he awakened? Would he vehemently object? Crowley was desperate for him to remain unaware, for what would they say to one another? He began slowly pulling his hand back, so slowly in fact, he hoped it would go unnoticed. However, before it left the warmth of Dean's skin, he felt Dean pointedly grab his hand. 

If Crowley's heart could race from fear it would have flown out of his chest. Bracing for cold rejection he felt he deserved, what happened was  _ not that _ . Dean pulled his hand in upon his chest, wrapping it further around himself keeping it there. Thirty, forty minutes had passed before he heard the light snoring from this beguiling thing beside him and for the first time in ages, he indulged himself in a fiction that Dean loved him back. Tomorrow would bring a reset for Dean, he'd wake up hungover, sour, and surly. But for tonight, Crowley would pretend he could have him like this. It would be enough. It had to be. 


	4. Write Your Own Story, Inc.

You got the job?! Awesome! Well, I knew you would. You're an outstanding accountant," Kevin glowed at his best friend Aaron, whom he'd helped land a position at the same company he worked at.

Kevin had found an outstanding job at "Write Your Own Story," a place kind of like Total Rekall, only no memory sorcery involved. His friend Claire and her wife Kaia had inherited a typewriter from a long lost uncle...Megatron or something like that. They discovered its magic and sought to use it for good but also a career. It was gaining steam, paid the bills, but barely out of the beta phase. 

They'd hired Kevin as a chemist to analyze the ink and when the girls mentioned they'd need an editor for customer's stories, well how could he not jump to his best friend and crush, Aaron? He was newly graduated and in the market for employment.

"You'll love it there. Claire and Kaia are so laid back. They'll make sure you're off early each night for Chanukah too, if you ask."

"Thanks for putting a good word for me man," Aaron said with genuine appreciation.

Over the next few weeks business boomed with the coming holidays. People wanted to write those they loved beautiful dreams as gifts. And as Kevin discovered, it was all the ink. So when it came close to Chanuka, he knew exactly what to get for the guy who'd been by his side for years and happened to have stolen his heart as well. Each night he'd planned something specific, yet unique for Aaron based on the multitude of memories he'd regaled him with and/or shared with him. 

On the second day of Chanuka Aaron was so jovial at work he shared with Kevin, "Last night I dreamt I was a kid again and my cousins came over to my house and we ate latkes just like my grandmother used to make! And we played the Dreidel game, it was so cool." 

Kevin's heart melted at how happy Aaron was, that had been the entire point of commissioning and working with Kaia and Claire. 

The next few nights Aaron dreamt of beloved memories and loved ones past, then coming to work the next morning animatedly recalling them to Kevin. As the nights went on they spent more time together. Cooking matzo ball soup, baking sufganiyot (jelly doughnuts), lighting the menorah, and playing the Dreidel game over herbal tea or a few beers at Aaron's place or Kevin's. 

On the sixth night, after they’d had a few beers too many, they'd slumped on the couch side by side, their heads resting against each other's while Aaron errantly spun a dreidel in his hand.

"It's in the ink. The customer leaves a detailed account of the memory or story they’d like for themselves or someone they love, it's written, and they get a book to take home."

"Sounds so simple. And it's really cool how it could make someone so happy." 

"Mmhmmm." Kevin was so sleepy. The snow outside had him rethinking his drive home, plus the beers..yep. "Mind if I crash here tonight?"

"Never..stay as long as you want."

It was too nice, the coziness of Aaron so close, his warmth and happiness. Shoot, he better hoist himself off the couch and into that spare room before he did something he might regret. Just before getting up heard Aaron murmur, "you can stay forever," before the guy kissed him softly. Then he began to snore on the couch cushion he'd fallen on as Kevin had stood up.

What had happened? The guy kissed him, but before Kevin could really find out more he'd passed out. His heart was flying and yet, they were both under the influence so he refused to give himself permission to jump for joy just yet. Instead, he covered Aaron with a blanket and sleepily shuffled into the spare room, thankful it was the weekend.

The next morning he awoke to a minor headache and a dry mouth, but all things considered, he'd had much worse. He was certain Aaron had thrown back a few more beer than him and could probably do with a solid breakfast before heading to Temple for Shabbat. He started for the kitchen when freezing at the sight of a very awake and sharply dressed Aaron in front his bookcase, flipping through through the book he'd put on the shelf and planned on showing him on the last night of Chanukah. 

"What the hell is this?" Aaron demanded in an angry tone. "I remember kissing you last night. Was this part of your plan? Some magical manipulation to get into my pants?"

"No...that's not how it works."

"Get out. I can’t believe you would do something like this. And you used a sacred holiday too..ya know what? Nevermind, I'm late for service, make sure you're not here when I get back."

Kevin stood, paralyzed and sick, for a long time after Aaron had slammed the door. How did it go so wrong? He hadn't manipulated Aaron at all. When his feet on the hardwood floor became as cold as the ice forming around his heart, he swiftly grabbed his things and drove home to shower, spending the rest of the weekend under a mountain of blankets.

When Monday morning rolled around he reluctantly arrived at work, shutting the labs door to avoid everyone and trying to conjure how he'd smooth this over with Claire and Kaia. They were bound to excitedly ask how things were going, as they had all last week.   
He couldn't even stomach the thought of coffee and launched himself into work, hoping it would all just go away. 

***

Aaron drove to work with knots in stomach and fissures in heart over what had happened with Kevin. He’d valued his friendship for years and almost took him getting his job with Kaia and Claire as Kevin wanting to spend even more time with him. Well, he'd hoped, anyhow. But why the hell would he ever think it's okay to manipulate him like that. 

The last few weeks he actually thought he'd fallen in love with the guy. They’d been hanging out more than usual and his heart was all aflutter when thinking about him. But the idea he'd used magic and that his feelings weren't real had him swearing his heart was broken, hell, it felt exactly the same. 

When he got to work, Kaia greeted him with a smile. coffee and wondered how Chanukah had been going.

"Did you know about Kevin's book?" he asked, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"I helped him write it. Is it okay?" She seemed worried.

Shit. This was such an awkward situation to be in. 

"Sorry if this is TMI but, you helped him weave in magic that b would make me kiss him? Doesn't that seem manipulative to you?"

Immediately she seemed astonished. "Whoa, you did? I figured he liked you but no, he was really specific about not including himself in any of the stories. And even if he wanted to, it's not how the magic works. It can't affect free will like that. If you kissed him, it's because you wanted to. He just wanted to give you some of your happiest holiday memories. Did something bad happen between you guys?"

Shit again. "Just me, being a complete jackwagon. I didn't know how that worked. Can you excuse me? Really need apologize to him."

"O-okay sure. Good luck!"

Aaron couldn't get out of there fast enough. What an asshole he'd been! Kevin had gone to the trouble of giving him a beautiful gift and he'd basically thrown it in his face. Now he was horrified and afraid he'd destroyed their friendship. 

He tried the lab door, but it was locked. He wasn't convinced though because the light was on under the door and he could hear Kevin tapping his pen on something which he always did when he was nervous.

"I can hear you in there jerk, open up!" Aaron hollered.

The ensuing stomps on the linoleum were proof he knew the bait was taken. Kevin ripped open the door and gave him an earful.

"You have no right calling me a jerk when I gave you a gift that had nothing to do with me!"

That brought him to another thing he'd wondered about. "Why did you give me happy memories but leave yourself out? That's a jerk thing to do!"

Kevin appeared at wits end. "I'm not Jewish, and I wanted to give you Chanuka memories!"

"Some of my favorite memories period have youin them! Whenever you visit my family, my grandfather loves how respectful you are and that you ask him about the old texts. My father calls you his second son. My mother loves feeding you because you put food away like it's the damn apocalypse. I love you because your you..and you were the brightest light that shone for me when I almost didn’t graduate and freaked over not having a job yet!"

"How the hell would I know you'd want me in them, I mean it's not like we talk about this stuff on the regular. I just listen when you do talk, but you're always in my dreams."

"Bold of you to assume you're not the man of mine," Aaron clipped.

Kevin looked stunned. Aaron knew he'd dropped a show stopper. But was it also a friendship ender as well? His heart was thundering in his chest as he waited for his declaration to compute.

Kevin looked stunned. Aaron knew he'd dropped a show stopper. But was it also a friendship ender as well? His heart was thundering in his chest as he waited for his declaration to compute.

"Sorry I'm sorry for being as ass the other morn-"

But he was cut off by Kevin grabbing his shirt and pulling him in to a tight hug, possibly squeezing him to death and then burrowing into his neck. 

"Ahuvi, I've wanted you for as long as I can remember. My intention with the gift was to make you happy. That's all."

Hearing Kevin use such a term of endearment for him had Aaron feeling warm inside. Relief and joy washed over him.   
Both became aware they were being watched and turned to find the girls staring at them with stars in their eyes like they were watching the most engrossing movie ever. 

"Go home, both you. It's not like you'll be able to concentrate on work anyways," Claire stated. 

"Your place or mine?" Aaron asked a smiling Kevin.


	5. Pieces of a Better Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jody gets Kaia home and rested, she gets the reunion of her dreams.

"We all missed you and mourned you. Just because we'd just met didn't mean we hadn't looked forward to welcoming you into our little family," Jody declared to Kaia as they pulled out from the bunker and started their five hour journey plus change back to Souix Falls. 

"I'd lost hope of getting back here. The only thing that kept me going was you guys, and..Claire."

"I'm not gonna intervene with you two beyond this, but hearing from Sam all these years about how Dean and Cas keep dancing around each other, I've gotta tell you something about her. She's a ball of emotion, even when she pretend she's not. Never seen such fire in her after we came back. She was so bent on vengeance and finding that other you. I told her to drive safe from Yosemite, but she'll be going ninety until she gets home."

Kaia felt the butterflies in her stomach stirring with hope. Maybe Claire had felt the same about her. Based on what Jody just said, it sounded positive. 

Jody urged, "You should nap. Might be sunrise by the time we pull in and you need all the rest you can get."

She took the advice and tried, though vehicular naps were seldom restful. It was indeed sunrise when they returned and with a hug for Alex and Patience, she went right back to sleep once they'd shown her a room to crash in. That was when sleep dragged her under for a very, very long time. 

Intermittently, she was aware of trudging to the bathroom and noted when the hydroflask on her nightstand had been refilled along with ziplock baggies containing a sandwich and crackers. She was beyond grateful and wanted to thank them, but was simply to sleepy to voyage out from under the warm covers and soft bed. 

The clock on the nightstand said 11:42am for the second time since she'd been there and she was hearing a light commotion from the family room. Despite needing a shower and a toothbrush, her heart was racing as she flew out of bed and into the hall, certain she'd heard Claire's voice. Sure enough, there she was, hugged by Jody who was decked out in cozy "mom's day off" attire. Claire's golden curls spilled down her back and her eyes drank in the sight of her, almost disbelieving, but with so much hope she wanted to cry. 

"It's really you…" the golden lightning in a bottle whispered before slamming into her, squeezing so hard her eyeballs almost popped out. 

She hardly minded because she wanted to do the same, Claire had just beat her to the punch. As the ray of sunshine released her, she cupped her face in her hands before realizing what she was doing and replied, "It's really me."

Something crackled in the air between them and when gazing into Claire's eyes, Kaia saw that she felt it too. They were home. Being together was their home, and it was beautiful, not just because of them, but because of the love and support from Jody, Alex, Patience, and Donna too. Kaia had sensed Claire's life mirrored her own, in that it'd been no picnic. Now they had some normal, they had a shot at making it a happy, albeit wonky one. That was all either of them had wanted and now they had it.


	6. Getting Defensive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's crushed on the martial arts instructor at the Men of Letters Academy for a year and finally finds an opportunity to do something about it.
> 
>   
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @alwaysthrowsscissors for the wonderful fic cover! I love it and might use it when I continue this fic, which has already shoved my current idea for next month off the table!

At 935 Pennsylvania Ave in Washington D.C. one will find the J. Edgar Hoover building, the headquarters of the Federal Bureau Investigation and Hideaway Museum. It's neatly tucked within a series of five interconnected town houses that includes over a hundred rooms and more than seventy secret doors. But the biggest secret, figuratively and literally, is what's hiding behind a door in the reference firearm collection room. Boasting more than seven thousand firearms seized over a period of eighty years, it's a treasured stop on the popular self guided tour.

And yet the general public has no idea that the case displaying John Dillinger's Prohibition Era revolver is a secret door leading to the entrance of the academy headquarters of another highly essential enforcement agency known as the American Men of Letters. The supernatural and government agencies work well side-by-side, quickly determining the jurisdiction each crime falls under and dispatching agents accordingly. Although the agencies are structurally adjacent as far as their relevance, the Letters Academy Headquarters is a fifteen floor, 7.2 million square foot, honeycombed shaped facility existing below the 2.8 million square foot F.B.I museum and headquarters.

Sam Winchester had been working at the Letters Academy for all of one year as a Professor of Supernatural History and Lore. Dean had graduated ten years prior and was a field agent with a partner of the celestial variety, Castiel. Sam preferred employment on the educational side of operations and prepared his students well, heavily arming them with the knowledge of what was out there and how to effectively neutralize it, if necessary.

Not all monsters were a danger, having gone to great lengths to coexist with humans. However, those weren't the ones for which the Letters agency was needed. In addition to studying the origins and backgrounds of various monsters, students of the academy were required to be in outstanding health. Physical training and conditioning were required as well as learning defensive arts and disciplines.

Staying fit, he enjoyed taking advantage of the academy's gym daily, which happened to include a view of the sparring mats and defensive arts classes. The instructor had joined the academy's faculty the same time as Sam and to say he had a crush on the guy was putting it mildly. His name was Gadreel, and like Dean's partner, he was an angel. They crossed paths and spoke often, but to Sam's disappointment, he hadn't possessed the nerve to ask him out, even as friends.

One morning though, when Sam was in the breakroom making coffee, Gadreel sauntered in and sat down at the table.

"Heard Max Banes is working through the ranks of Tai Kwon Do pretty fast. Aces all the tests and assignments in my class. Seems pretty motivated.." Sam tossed out for conversation.

Gadreel pulled up a chair and replied, "Good kid, has a lot of natural talent. I like sparring with him. You ever work out in my corner?"

"No, used to do some boxing with brother and uncle growing up but I can pull apart a 9mm and put it together in my sleep."

"Those are effective, until knocked out of your hand or your mag runs out. Come by sometime, I'll show you some stuff..if you want."

Yes. Yes he did want.

"Alright, cool." He noted his watch beeping, notifying that his first class would begin soon. "See ya around."

His Thursday afternoons were free, so were Gadreel's and he knew this because he was a dork who already had the guys schedule memorized in a not stalkery way...nope. So later that week when the afternoon finally came around, he headed to the gym, threw on a fresh set of workout clothes, and found Gadreel just as his class was finishing. He wasn't expecting the contented expression on the angel's face or how the blue in his eyes appeared to lighten, stopping at a shade just shy of actually glowing.

"Let's start with Jujitsu. You'll be a little sore tonight but trust me, it's worth it," Gadreel offered.

"I'm ready."

They stretched and did warm ups for a while and then Gadreel showed him how to roll. It looked something like a flip summersault. He was confused and it must have shown because Gadreel explained, "I know you were probably expecting some fancy takedown but learning to fall properly is the first thing I teach. When you rewire your brain to fall correctly, it greatly decreases the chances of broken wrists and cracked skulls."

"Fair enough." It made sense, so he went with the flow. Gadreel taught him all the falls which are collectively called, "Stemi."

He felt most comfortable with the side fall and knew the others would take time. Time they had and made. Every Thursday afternoon from that point on, Sam suited up and practiced stemi. Gadreel also began teaching him a few wrist locks which when demonstrated on him, hurt like hell. But once he got the hang of them, it was easy to see how very minimal pressure could cause maximum pain without serious injury.

A few weeks into his lessons, Sam was really enjoying the time with Gadreel, although it did nothing to squelch his crush.

"Private lessons I see, Gadreel. I'd no idea they were on the table. Perhaps we can come to some..arrangement."

Sam looked up to see Arthur Ketch standing in the doorway aiming a lascivious grin at Gadreel. It creeped Sam out and by the way Gadreel's gorgeous back muscles were tensing through his tank top, he suspected the angel was a tad uncomfortable as well. It had Sam considering the length of his wingspan.

"No need. I'm contractually obligated to train the agency's employees. We can discuss a schedule some other time."

A minor twinge pained Sam in his gut when wondering if he was just a contractual obligation. Ketch seemed to also catch Gadreel's hint at contractual obligations and took the readjustment in their potential relationship in the spirit with which it was meant. Rejection.

Straightening his suit, he clipped, "There was an incident in field training last week with Mr. Banes, he was lucky I was supervising him so heavily. Perhaps he could do with more discipline in your wheelhouse."

"I read your report and Max's. Director Davies and I concur it was you, who was lucky Max was nearby. Nevertheless, I'll see that his discipline is sharpened."

And with that, Gadreel swiftly turned into Sam with his right shoulder, pulling his right arm up above them both, then pivoting with alarming speed he tossed him up and over his body, slamming Sam onto the mats. Before Sam could get up he saw Ketch's eye twitch as he walked away.

"Freeze. Look at your position and line right now," Gadreel instructed.

Sam had wondered what the hell he'd slammed him for but his question died on his lips as took in how he was positioned in a perfect side fall landing. Had he been attacked on the street, the same landing would've prevented broken bones. It would still hurt, but it was a sign his body was learning. Remembering. Gadreel had a mile wide grin on his face as he bent down, gripping Sam's hand.

Leaning in, he whispered, "You aren't an obligation, but someone I want to know more, and you feel the same.That technique was Seo Nagei, a shoulder throw. Tip to tip, my wings span thirty two feet, and before you apologize, I didn't sense your thoughts straying to other anatomical size comparisons so I know you're just curious, unlike that jackwagon Ketch."

Sam was stunned and more than a little embarrassed as Gadreel pulled him up.

"I wasn't searching for your thoughts, they're just louder than others. As I've just demonstrated you're above average learning proficiency, may I offer you lessons in concealing them? One can never have too many defensive techniques, even here in the academy," he smoothly delivered and tilted his head towards the door in which Ketch had just been darkening.

"I'd like that," was all Sam could manage, realizing Gadreel hadn't let go of his hand. He liked the way it felt and the intense look in Gadreel's eyes gazing back at him told Sam he did too.

"Can you teach me that shoulder throw sometime?" Sam thought to ask.

Gadreel's demeanor changed to somewhat playful. "That will take more lessons, do you have the time?"

"I'll make the time," Sam declared, looking forward to how much more often he'd be spending in the gym...and elsewhere.


	7. Plush Attendance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When distance learning is here to stay, Professor Crowley thinks it's rubbish. His buddy Mick tries to lift his spirits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet is inspired by this Tumblr post I thought was too cute to pass up:
> 
> https://emblue-sparks.tumblr.com/post/641757175973314560/airyairyaucontraire-thehoekage-it-looks-like

June 1, 2020

Just like the year so far, the day had brought unfortunate news for the faculty of Hastings College. They would not be re-opening campus for the fall semester. The Board had unanimously decided the risk was too great, distance learning would carry on over summer and clear into late August, when the Fall semester began. 

So it was with a heavy heart that Mick Davies, tenured Professor of American Folklore, locked up his office and started towards his building's exit when hearing something faint from one of the lecture halls. 

Skulking in that direction, he decided to investigate and found none other than Professor Crowley giving an introductory lecture to...nobody? Well, Mick spotted his stuffed Darth Vader on the table just in front of the podium, which a student had gifted him a few semesters earlier. He decided to linger and wait for his friend to finish explaining the syllabus outlining his sections of folklore pertaining witchcraft and demonology. 

Chuckling to himself, he recalled the moniker Crowley had been given by the collective student body. Known as the demonologist-in-denim, he was extremely well liked for his enthusiasm with the subject of which he made quite entertaining along with his casual attire which rarely deviated from Levis, a dark shirt, and even darker blazer. 

"Summer classes don't start for a few weeks, what on earth are you doing?" Mick wondered after watching him hit a remote button.

Appearing slightly embarrassed at being caught, Crowley busied himself with his briefcase. "Getting a jump on summer lectures."

Mick offered, "That's what the zoom conferences are for that they told us about in the meeting earlier." 

"I prefer prerecorded, my students have my email and I'll be providing them with my personal number as well."

Mick thought he sounded nervous, perhaps.  
"What's really going on, mate? You've got Darth Winchester front and center for your lecture. Out with it."

Sighing, Crowley confessed, "I like seeing the whites of their eyes when we get into 'summoning gone awry'. Distance learning is absolute rubbish. I'd rather stick white hot skewers in my eyes than-"

"Can I buy you a drink to commiserate?"

"I'd love some Craig."

Over the next few days, Mick offered to help Crowley get set up for classes zoom style, and each time he broached the subject Crowley politely declined, citing he was too stuck in his ways to learn some new fangled tech. So he decided to help the guy out. His niece had mentioned needing to donate much of her teddy collection because she was a big girl now, and so he'd offered to take them off her hands, promising they'd go to a good home. 

It just so happened that this niece had a penchant for collecting hideous creatures, the likes of which most kids would turn up their noses at. Most looked like trolls and minions from that Labrynth movie so they were perfect for what Mick had in mind. Each day, he'd sneak into the lecture hall early and add a new stuffed atrocity to Crowley's invisible class roster. And each day he watched his friend smile and leave the creatures be. 

By the time summer sessions began, Crowley was sharing screen caps of the students "class discussions" via email. They were fascinated by the ever growing, on-site 'students' and thought it was adorable. The waitlist for his class had become astronomical. Sadly, there was a limit to which Crowley could allow, but the smile he wore when discussing his in-person class and his distance learning students' amused reactions to them tickled Mick to no end.

When the first summer session ended, Crowley had a full class and was feeling better about the whole distance learning thing.

"I appreciate the class you gave me. Don't think I don't know it was you, Mick. Who else would give me minions and goblins?"

"They're hardly different from the real riff-raff," Mick joked, college kids being a breed of their own and one they enjoyed, "You miss your students don't you?"

Crowley's head hung low, "Yes, I miss my students."

"It's clear they miss you just as much. I don't know how long this pandemic thing will last, but I'll help you with whatever tech issues you're having or want to learn. But in the meantime look at it this way, you've got double the hobgoblins who are so enraptured with 'summonings gone wrong' that neither set stirs or blinks, eh?"

A pleasant smile spread across Crowley's face, "Thanks for that."


	8. No Clothes, No Shoes, No Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean's evening swim becomes dangerous, Benny swoops in to an awkward meetcute.

"Under the Boardwalk  
Out by the Sea  
On a blanket with my baby  
Is where I'll be"

Dean pleasantly crooned the schmoopy song to himself as he powered through his swim on a balmy August evening as the sun sank low in the western sky. Well, balmy for Santa Cruz anyhow. It was the California coast after all. Just a hop, skip, and a jump south of San Fran proper and Walt Whitman once said "the coldest winter I ever spent was my summer in San Francisco." 

Alright, it wasn't that bad. But it did get chilly. Los Angeles was where all the stereotypical Cali weather was, but like hell was he moving that far south. A born and bred Kansas boy like Dean needed four seasons a year, thank you very much. But the Pacific ocean was something Kansas didn't have, so along with Sammy at Stanford, sorry Kansas, but good ol' NorCal won out.

So there he was, in the middle of his breath stroke, as good medical field workers do when keeping themselves in shape, when "Sonuvabitch!" Somethin' pierced the bottom of his foot as he was heading into shore. Yet high tide was upon him and he panicked when feeling himself slow to a sluggish doggie paddle against the motion of the ocean, seducing him back out into the deep. 

Balls. This wasn't good. His limbs felt heavy, his lips were numb, his head was pounding, and he just might ralph. As the sky darkened, he wondered if life guard duty ran past sunset. His lungs were definitely working overtime to keep him breathing and the boardwalks' ferris wheel seemed to have carbon copied itself a few times as it spun against the horizon...the thing was a vomit comet menace. But nevermind that, what? Somebody was hollering at him and yanking his arms. Damn, they were strong.

Dean was awake. He wasn't aware he'd fallen asleep. "Y-yer, yer strong...ya work out?" he heard himself slur.

"Some. But what do we do about that foot? Ambulance? I can drive you to the E.R." 

Eyes the color of cornflowers peered back at him and his voice wrapped Dean in the comfortable memories of a southern home on Sunday after church. 

"S'wrong with it?"

"Something's stuck in there. Guessing it's got a pinch of venom in it, given how a fit man like yourself was beginning to float out there with all the grace of the Lusitania."

Dean sorta lifted his head to look at his foot, which was swollen and purple. 

"Can you pee on it?" It seemed a simple, straightforward task, right?

"Don't think that'll work. But you go right ahead and try, seeing as yer already aimed and loaded."

Oh. It wasn't his foot that was swollen and purple after all. He thought he remembered some poisonous sea critters containing potent vasodilators. He should probably also stop breaking the law by swimming naked, in case of a situation just like the one he found himself in now; in which a hot guy saved his persqueeter and things got embarrassing.

"I'd surely be embarrassed too, but I've gotta say Chief, even drunk on urchin poison you're pretty smooth. Much obliged for the kind words and all, what do you say we get you upright and off to the ER?"

Had he really said all that out loud? Crap.

"That you did. I'd avoid any sudden urges to divulge vital information such as your social security number, can't be certain if I'm as nice as you seem to think."

Dean kept his mouth shut as the guy was joined by a few other well meaning strangers helping cart his naked butt to a car. The drive to the hospital was relatively fast and in no time he was hooked up to an IV, flushing out the urchin juice while the doc pulled the urchin spine out of his heel.

"Looks like you're less foggy now, how do you feel?" Handsome Stranger asked, when allowed back in the small room Dean had been given.

"Mortified, but thankful." It was the truth. 

Scratching his beard, the guy assured, "Ain't no call for it. I see folk of the inebriated and clothing free variety everyday from work, you at least, gave me something worth getting a gander at."

The admission was gonna make Dean blush like a school girl so he took the line about work and ran with it. "Where's work?"

"Beach Hut diner, right there on the boardwalk corner."

That place was Dean's favorite. "Seriously? They make the best burgers and oh my God that Surfin' Bird is the most amazing deli sandwich I've ever had."

"I appreciate that. You don't look too familiar, but maybe it's cause you tend to wear more than your birthday suit when frequentin' food establishments."

Dean's face was a furnace, but people just couldn't appreciate just how freeing swimming in the buff was. 

"I refuse to apologize for that, guilty pleasure of mine. But yeah I usually wear more clothes, just haven't had time to physically go in the diner since I'm usually working twelves here or I'm up in Menlo Park visiting my brother at Stanford."

"Here? You work here?" Hot Stranger asked, pulling up a chair to the beeping bed.

"Yep, peds nurse up on Four. Name's Dean Winchester, my buddy Garth usually calls in our lunch orders and picks'em up. Got me hooked with that turkey sandwich."

"Benjamin Lafitte, the guy you wanted to have pee on your... foot." 

Additional mortification alert. Defense mode activated, "You kink shaming me?"

The guy immediately appeared regretful and was about to apologize when Dean let him off the hook. "M'kidding, hell yes I know better than to piss on it. Gonna claim under the influence and leave it at that. Nice to meet you Benny."

The guy blushed and so did Dean. Can I take you out for a beer sometime to say thanks properly?"

"You throw in a clothing optional swim beforehand and it's a deal," Benny readily agreed.

I'm a goner, Dean thought to himself.


	9. Birthday at Buster's

Bobby and Rufus had just dismembered an Okami, with the help of two draft horses from the barn on the Indiana farm they found themselves in. Which wasn't easy. It was hotter than a supernova in an Alabama August.

Thankfully once they'd put Bert and Ernie back in their stalls and buried the remains embedded with blade fragements blessed by Shinto priests, the farm owners were so relieved, they offered them the use of their shower and a stiff drink. Neither hunter turned down such an offer, so when they climbed into Bobby's truck at sunset, both were tired but feeling pretty decent, all things considered.

They had to head back through the town of Butler to reach the interstate, so when Bobby pulled off the road into a large strip mall, Rufus was expecting a pit stop. Still silent on the matter, he was dragged into a place that from the outside looked like some fancy pizza place. But when they walked inside, he thought they'd stepped into some millennial casino.

"Bobby what the hell kind of place is this? Looks like Chuck E. Cheese meets Jersey Shore in here."

"And how would you know what Jersey Shore looks like unless you watch it?" Bobby accusingly popped his jaw at him with his hands on his hips.

Crap. Bobby had a point. "At least I don't waste time on Tori Spelling. People do anything to stay relevant these days."

That threw Bobby off for a second or two when followed up with, "What are we here for? Cause I could use some dinner."

Squinting he found somewhere he wanted to check out, so Rufus followed suit. They cozied up to a neon diner bar and were given a few menus. Bobby ordered the bacon wrapped shrimp and sirloin.

Rufus was stumped. Bobby rarely splurged, especially at establishments like this. "Huh..Since when do pieces of skewered Okami put you in a finger food mood?"

"Can't I have a hankerin' just cause?" came his reply.

Come to think of it, he was having a fried craving so he shut his trap and ordered the onions rings and fried chicken strips. And a beer.

"Well look who's drinking on Sabbath…" Bobby snarked, though Rufus knew he was just joking.

"Not til sundown it's not."

Bobby gestured to the darkness outside and Rufus defended, "I was born on the west coast. Five o'clock or not it's before sunset."

With an incredulous look, Bobby grumbled, "You were born in Kenosha, you idjit. But it's always five o'clock and not Sabbath for you ain't it?"

Rufus shot him a stern look but knew Bobby never bought his bullshit. "I had my Bar Mitzvah in Oregon. That's it."

Pushing empty plates away and firing back a few chasers of Blue label after their beers, they decided to check the place out for real. It was Friday night and the place seemed to be hopping. Whole lotta young folks playing glorified adult Chuck E. Cheese games. At first, Rufus was a little judgemental, but then he got a gander at the rows upon rows of skeeball and his inner kid went brezerk.

He found a token machine and plunked in a twenty dollar bill, grabbing a plastic bucket to catch the tokens as they spilled out. When he turned around, he bumped right into the wall that was Bobby, who looked at him with a sharp expression, as if he just knew he'd find him there and handed him two plastic bags.

"You save yer tickets in'em. We ain't going to the counter til we're done though, cause I don't want another Mardi Gras Bowlin' Alley incident."

Ruffled feathers and all, Rufus defended his behavior. "When a man's got prizes coming to him he has a right to take his time selecting."

"Not for forty five minutes while yer holding up two birthday parties worth of frothing six year olds ya don't."

"The kid said he'd check for Hubba Bubba in the back. Bobby that's some classic bubble gum, they don't make them like that anymore, with the comic strips on the back of the wrapper," Rufus explained, smacking his arm.

Rolling his eyes, he asked, "You mean Bazooka? The squares that you could chip a tooth on and tasted like bubblegum flavored cardboard?"

"That sounds like something a Fruity Stripes fan would say and you can just stay here, defending the flavors of rainbow zebras, I'm gonna win some skeeball. Go get us some more shots if you come to your senses," he declared, marching back to the skeeball rows before they were all taken up.

Rufus barely registered when Bobby joined him a while later. Yet he registered the tumblr full of whiskey set down below his ball rack just fine and each times it was refilled. He was on a winning streak for hours it seemed and had so any tickets spilling out the front slot of the game that the stack of tickets was nearly as tall as the end of ramp itself.

"You gonna leave some prizes for the other folks here, just look at ya!" Bobby roared, obviously having refilled his own Tumblr of whiskey as many times as his own.

While he still thought he had a chance, Rufus yelled, "Holy shit Bobby look! It's Dean Winchester kissin' on that wrestler Gunnar Lawless!"

Immediately Bobby twisted and turned, trying to spot that very scene he'd tossed out and Rufus flew to the end of the skeeball lane to toss a wooden ball underneath the cage. It landed in the right one hundred point pocket and the alarm began blaring instantly. He flew back to start of the lane, landing just as Bobby turned around. He tried calming his breath and hoped he wasn't sweating.

Bobby eyeballed him suspiciously. "That was no Gunnar Lawless over there, but the guy kind of looked Dean, if you're drunk and ya squint."

"Huh, well that boy's about as straight as blinking U turn signal."

Bobby paused for a minute with an unreadable expression. "Be that as it may, the kid's going right down John's path. He deserves happiness whenever and with whomever, he can grab it."

"Amen to that," Rufus commented then downed the last bit of whiskey. It was the kind of night where he could keep drinking, not get drunk, and yet manage to wake up with a hangover from hell. Best to salvage the old liver and kidneys.

"Time for me to tap out,"

Bobby looked distraught at the notion of having to count the tickets he'd won and they spend who the heck knew how long selecting prizes. So Rufus surveyed the joint and quickly zeroed in on a girl dolled up real pretty with a tiara on her head with an "I'm 21 Today" beauty queen sash around torso. She was surrounded by friends and smiling. Rufus walked up to her and said, "Happy Birthday Miss, here's a bunch of tickets I really don't need."

"Are you sure? Cause you've been killing at skeeball tonight," she verified.

"Nope. You've got a good birthday. Enjoy it."

"Thank you!" She waved and smiled.

"That sure was nice of you," Bobby commented in disbelief.

"Nice? I was nice once. 1988. Worst year of my life. We staying at that Wagon Wheel motel next door?Cause we sure ain't driving."

Bobby pulled out a cheesy plastic wagon wheel key chain with the number 14 on the back and jingled it around. Once they'd dumped their bags on the floor and fell onto the queen beds, Rufus was compelled to thank his best friend for the evenings frivolity.

"I appreciate what you did for me tonight, Bobby. Bet you thought I forgot my own birthday," he grinned.

"You did. But you headed to hand over your license at the bar to run a tab and when you beat me to closing it out I heard the bartender wish you a Happy Birthday. And you plum forgot because you asked him the date."

Rufus grinned. Not much ever got by Bobby Singer.

"But I let him go on thinking it was cause you were three sheets in and not cause yer an old fart like me."

"I ain't old, yer old."

"You were born in Wisconsin four months before me. We ain't spring chickens no more and don't you dare pretend like you've passed out Sleeping Ugly, you know damn well I'm right."

He did know Bobby was right, he just didn't want want admit it. But Rufus was smiling on the inside, thankful as all get out for the best friend he ever had and for the best birthday he'd had in a long time.


	10. Forged in Hellfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is exhausted from decades of war in Hell over the soul he was charged with saving and steels himself to courageously continue after years of loss and pain. When he finally finds Dean Winchester, his soul is in an astounding condition. His astounding salvation and the events which follow is nothing Castiel ever expected, yet everything he'd been praying an eternity for.

Terrifying flashes and a deafening wind with acrid smoke and sulfur were so thick Castiel nearly choked. There were screams from souls, familiar sounds of blades clashing, wind and growling, drums and ripping, and the ripping of flesh. They weren’t clean, surgical incisions..oh no. Ripping and tearing away from tissue, ligaments, tendons, and bones. It was an illusion of course, a soul had no earthly body down here. But for eternal punishment, the souls were meant to think their bodies were intact so that the pain of skin peeling from the muscles was real, the horror of impalement was happening. 

Seven. This is Seven, he reminded himself of where he was. Castiel moved swiftly, feeling the force of impact from nearly all sides. The pain, the exhaustion, it was unimaginable, he couldn’t wrap his head around it. Yet he raised his left arm instinctively to block a downward stab while simultaneously throwing one directly behind him with his right. Making contact with it's target, his right arm pulled back to slice something open...eviscerating someone or something from the sound it made in both the injury and hitting the ground. His right hand spun the blade point up, immediately striking something above his head which had been descending upon him and then he pulled his left leg out of a slithery grasp to cut off the appendage which held him. 

“Inias! Retrieve Rachel, send her to help Bartholomew neutralize the remaining scourge in Five. Balthazar, find out what's taking Uriel so long to locate and hold Alistair!” 

Castiel never stopped to consider how powerful he sounded, the immense responsibility and loyalty he felt towards those in his command was fierce and the only things which mattered, along with the mission.

“I shall, Brother” Inias and Balthazar answered in unison before disappearing.

“Castiel, how long must we continue? He must have succumbed by now. It’s been decades, nearly forty years since you received the orders from Naomi. How many more of our brethren can we afford to lose?” Hannah’s voice was rife with grief and fatigue.

“We’ll lose everyone if we fail this mission,” he explained as he smote two demons charging him head on, ”I’ll not abandon a soul heaven deems worthy to raise from this realm.” 

"Why is he not with the other souls? We’ve heard Alistair keeps all kinds with him. Why are we not searching his domain?” Hannah asked, as she smote four demons to their left while Castiel disemboweled a hound behind her. 

“We did before your reinforcements arrived. Alistair has particular skills and tastes, therefore he took dominion over Two and Seven. We nearly had him in the Second Circle,” Castiel winced when mentioning it, “This boy is the one from the prophecy, Alistair will throw him aside for Ramsey to shred when he’s of no further use. But until he breaks, Hells highest won’t take any chances.”

Without warning, molten fire was raining upon them. Castiel felt the sizzling down his back and wings, it made strange pinging sounds against his armor. Screaming, he was almost knocked over by another hound when his balance was thrown from the avalanche of lava like fluid. It lunged for him, Castiel’s blade went through it's head and neck before it could bite, but in the last seconds of its death throes, the beast tore ribbons into his right hip and thigh. Something landed nearby with the force of a comet, launching Cas, Hannah, and two other angels in the air only for them to crash down again in a cacophony of resonating metal.

He only got bits and pieces of Uriel's shouts at first. “-iel! Hann-....-now you...move!!! -ing away!!! Alistair h-.. hi-...nth!” 

“Castiel!! Hannah! Move! Get up now!” 

Grace from others who were trying to heal him poured through like dye in water. A few angels hissed at Uriel, this was a garrison defending their commander against one of their own. Castiel gestured for them to calm. He tried to stand, but couldn't. The motion alone caused sections of his wings to snap and fall off. 

More grace flowed through him. How many are healing him? Two, three angels? What about Hannah? Castiel sat, diligently letting those under his command administer much needed care. Uriel meant no harm, Castiel was sure of it. He’d never questioned or disobeyed, but a strong connection hadn’t ever existed between them. It wasn’t uncommon, not everyone was equally close to one another and in battle conditions tensions were always higher.

Despite his blinding pain, he wanted to be up, searching for the soul he’d been charged with retrieving. 

Dean Winchester, hear me...we are coming for you, believe in yourself, in your humanity, in us. Please hear me, don’t give in!

Castiel had been speaking to Dean, as if in prayer, since their mission had began.

“Castiel, I thought you and Hannah were still working through the Fifth. My apologies, the winged beast would’ve killed me if I hadn’t gutted it mid flight. I didn’t see you down here until it was too late.” 

“Where's Balthazar? I sent him to find you,” Castiel asked him. Uriel lowered his head in silence. Not Balthazar, oh no...

Seconds passed, then Uriel finally answered, “Alistair escaped again with the boy. He’s in the Ninth now, or so Hester reported. We must move now if we’re to complete the mission.”

Castiel nodded, issuing a command. “Pull Rachel and Inias back from the Fifth, we’ll need them when breaching the gates in Nine. Watch these hounds with yellow eyes, I’m not healing well. They must have sulfur in their claws. How's Hannah?”

“Better than you brother, and ready," he heard her reply, although she sounded anything but willing.

They pulled Castiel up, his wings were healing, but still in bad shape. He knew they’d never recover completely. 

Almighty Father, keep me intact and able to fight for this soul until I’ve done as you’ve commanded. Grant me the wisdom to properly guide my remaining brethren as we carry out this edict for your child, wrongly sentenced here.

Images blurred like paint, Castiel felt cold, frozen...an icy sensation which tore through his soul. There was no way to shield oneself from this kind of climate, Castiel couldn’t escape it. Lightning struck with metallic percussions, he felt the electricity run through his angel like a transformer blowing. Icy sparks randomly fired within his grace, painful and distracting. The wind was so frigid, he continuously spun his blades so as to avoid them sticking in their sheaths.

Low lying, blackish gray mist swirled beside him as he traveled, examining the circles' environment. It's scent was unlike anything he'd ever encountered yet, he instantly recognized it as the cloying residue of disintegrating souls. The growling wind from Seven had become a low, pulsing hum. Castiel abruptly realized with terror there was no wind, but the sound of Lucifer's awareness and ensuing amusement of their presence in his realm. 

Although it filled him with no less dread, Castiel knew the cage was secure. His garrison tread silently beside him, advancing with extreme caution, eleven remained from the thirty three who began this mission under his command. 

He suspected they were surrounded by walls, perhaps because of the way sound resonated down there. However, the farther they walked, the more he understood the Ninth circle was likely an endless dimension of ice, mist, and darkness. The landscape was uneven, like walking along a dry, hill shaped river bed continuing on forever. 

When trekking up the slope, Castiel’s feet sunk slightly, as if stepping in compacted silt. He knew it wasn't silt, but the sedimentary residue of souls left to disintegrate through trillions of eons, time immeasurable. They’d fought through the nine realms, seen unspeakable things, witnessed the slaying of beloved celestial siblings, almost losing the soul for whoms salvation they’d battled in realms Two and Seven. 

The memory from Two brought such Cas grief he'd buried it immediately. They torn him in ways.. it made him sick.

Each time they’d almost had Dean, Alistair was prepared, informed, and disappeared with him somewhere seemingly impossible to access. Balthazar, the snarky pain in the ass he was, had never left Castiel's side and he ache for his brother, then pushed it aside like emotional triage. 

This last circle though, was the worst of all. Lucifer remained here, chained by the last seal to forever witness and watch over his domain. It was worse than the void, at least there the nothingness was blissful, quiet. Here souls entered when they were nothing left but dust, still material...but only barely. This circle prevented the soul “silt” from the last stage which finally allows passage to the void. Here they were aware, yet unable to move, cry out, reflect, change anything about their eternal situation. 

Meanwhile Lucifer, bored within his confines, channeled and inflicted the torment of all the combined Eight circles above him upon each lingering molecule which Castiel and the other angels were traveling across. Thunder bellowed around them and above them ominously as they continued along the vast incline. They looked up to see a lightning storm descending. Only when the lightning flashed did they see a militia of demons had camouflaged itself in the dark clouds.

“We must keep moving if we’re to find the boy!” Castiel yelled. Uriel! Hannah! Thadeus! Give us cover, I see a platform ahead!”

The three angels shifted like synchronized clock work, their wings folded inward to minimize their exposure, and placed their backs together in the middle of the remaining soldiers. One by one, they raised their eyes to the storm. They continued to swiftly keep pace in the same direction as the others, placing complete trust in their surrounding comrades to be guided as they prepared to smite the oncoming hoard. The freezing wind picked up speed, as he rushed the remaining climb of the steep hill where he could see the flashes of light ahead.

Suddenly Hester was running on his left, “We’ve found Alastair up ahead! He escaped before we could hold him for you. Balthazar engaged him, but.. it didn’t look good when they disappeared. The boy is just over there, but heavily guarded.” 

Castiel could feel the energy from the lightning storm, it’s currents attracted by the soul silt conducted efficiently along the landscape and his soldiers hissed in discomfort as they were each mildly electrocuted with each step they took. Heat suddenly ripped through the air as the center three lit up the circling dark clouds above them with celestial fire. Castiel ignored the heat and the pain, instead he focused on Hester. “Uriel told me, but you didn’t see him? I sent Balthazar to find out what had taken so long!”

Hester shook her head, it appeared she had more bad news to deliver. Yet as they reached the hill crest it was clear to Castiel by her expression that what awaited them in the distance was not the bad news she had intended to relay. Surrounding the platform was an army of demons, hellhounds, and wraiths. A light was pulsating in the center of Hell’s Guardian Legion. Castiel could see wraith and hound appendages being flung left and right. The outside ring of soldiers were focused on the garrison, but those positioned within the circle’s center were either cringing in pain from the pulsing light or being eviscerated by it.

Time nearly stopped, Castiel couldn’t be certain of what he was witnessing, the slaughter scene unfolding in front of him made no sense. 

Heavenly Father what is this creature that lays such waste to its demonic sentinels? Naomi said this boy was taken unjustly, that he was being tortured by the best of the best. How is there enough of him left to even exist, let alone fight?! 

Never in the eons of time throughout his existence had Castiel seen such a soul. It’s light shone brighter than any other found in the Nine circles. This soul, this boy, had sections of his soul torn and missing. Dark green and black stains poured from his head, ears, mouth, and other various wounds on his limbs so hideous Castiel simply couldn’t believe an entity such as this remained at all. Most of his shape was transparent, near disintegration, but his radiance persisted, no, defied all known laws of the universe.

Father!!!! Noooo! I’ve failed you. Castiel knew by the hemorrhaging fluid like stains on this boy's soul he had found him too late. Words of the prophecy echoed sorrowfully in his grace, “...and it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break.” 

I’ve failed you Father, failed your child. 

The grievous loss and devastation he felt through his grace was debilitating. Hester braced herself next to Castiel, waiting for his orders. His soldiers were unaware of how to proceed in event of a failure of this magnitude. The three angels in the garrisons center were holding the demons from above, for now. But the hellhounds had begun to swarm, the wraiths were maintaining their position around the platform. They were the reserve, in case the army's first wave of assault against the angelic invasion was unsuccessful.

“This changes nothing, the edict was to retrieve him! His salvation shall not be dependent upon his condition which he cannot be held accountable for. We move forward, we fight!” He looked at his unmoving soldiers who regarded him in disbelief.

“Brother it’s over, we’ve failed. If he’s broken himself and the seal there is nothing left to save!” Bartholomew weakly tried to reason.

“You would defy me?! I gave you a command which you will follow. Never since the creation of humankind has our Almighty Father so concerned himself with a human soul save once, and that was for sacrifice. This is for salvation! He is not beyond our help, look at him!”

“We have Castiel, how are you so blind!” Bartholomew stood back, as did Uriel, Hester, Inias, Rachel, and Thadeus. There was fear and hopelessness on their faces, and something else as well.

“Do not contemplate what I see in your eyes. We knew the risks, this a just cause. Losing family is regrettable, do not dishonor them by abandoning the mission and the soul they died for!” Castiel pleaded.

“Do not ask us to die for one human beyond hope! We cannot...Castiel, I’m sorry, we will not!” Thadeus beseeched, his eyes wide with terror at the oncoming threat.

“Castiel, brother please come with us. We need to seek revelation for this. Lead us out of this place, we’ll follow just come with us!” Rachel yelled.

“I will NOT!!!! Mutinous, faithless cowards!!!!” Castiel spat in disbelief. Both parties regarded the other in astonishment, then members of the garrison parted expeditiously. Castiel could do nothing except watch while over half his command fled. Then he, Hannah, Jehoel, Simiel, and Arariel stood with iron resolve to complete their task. He noticed a flicker of satisfaction in Uriel's eyes as the angel retreated hastily to save himself.

Arariel and Hannah immediately turned to light up the sky, Jehoel took off several of the belts and sashes he’d brought with him, doling out tiny clay bowls and silver tubes which to Dean looked a bit like smooth light sabers and had Enochian etchings on them. Castiel was nearly overcome with relief, they might not survive this battle but with these gifts sent to them, they’d at least have a chance and they’d take out a substantial section of the Ninth’s population.

“Many thanks Jehoel, this is unexpected,” Cas hugged him tightly.

“Naomi sends her regards, and faith.” 

“Hannah! Arariel! Do not use these unless there is no other way, and even then, not until the last possible moment!” Cas ordered as he handed them each two silver tubes.

The hounds had arrived and were circling the group. 

“Take care to avoid their claws, you will not heal quickly!”

Castiel spun his blades and braced for the attack, and when it came he abruptly experienced a sensation like his grace had been shattered, but seconds later he was slammed back together, like he’d been hit by a bus. The pain was staggering, like he’d hit a wall going three hundred miles an hour and lit on fire. His mind was still aware with alarming clarity, Cas had hounds covering him. He’d flung them off only to be covered with more. Swinging and jabbing his blade, he made contact with flesh, muscle, and bone. Yelping, growling, snarling, and screaming were all around, pain..oh the pain was unbearable. 

And yet Castiel, the Shield of God who pushed through every slam, slice, blow, and bite... who returned each in kind and could see this brilliant light with more clarity as he advanced little by little. This soul was so wrecked but still fighting? 

My God I can’t believe what I’m seeing! Your child Father! He’s fighting still! He’s fighting so hard for his freedom! How can he fight though he’s so broken? He defies the creatures that hold him, defies the powers that influence what he’s become, defies this entire realm! No soul in the history of the Nine Realms has ever done this! This is the soul Father, please this is the soul!!!! This is mine, HE IS MINE! As long as he’s fighting I will never give up, I will never abandon him! If ever there was a soul most worthy of redemption it is he, this is the soul!

Castiel reached past the hounds, Jehoel and Simiel were finishing them off, though Simiel was struggling. Hannah and Arariel were somehow able to spy the demons in the storm and smite them as they struck. He was terribly injured but continued on, even as wraiths menacingly scurried along the ground like carrion predators waiting for him to drop. Castiel waited, he was exhausted and began to hemorrhage grace from the wounds he’d sustained. As he stood there swaying, silently baiting the wraiths he could see Hannah and Arariel take to flight.

“No!! If they ground you it's over!!!” Cas yelled just as lightning shot through Arariel’s left wing. He yelled for him again, but there was nothing he could do. Arariel slid down the bolt of lightning by his impaled wing, it solidified like a blade when it had hit it's target. The second he hit the ground his form disappeared under dozens of demons, a blinding flash of green and yellow occurred from beneath the hill of demons on top of him. 

He smote as many demons as he could until his grace had been ripped from him. Castiel's rage boiled within him, decades of loss to this realm would continue no more. He assessed the wraiths, he then assessed Hannah, Jehoel, and Simiel. Each was injured, but Simiel was suffering the most with half of his right wing torn off and mortal bite wounds to his chest. His balance was thrown too much to effectively fight, let alone escape to a safe enough realm. The wraiths eyed him hungrily and moved their attention from him.

Castiel spoke with sorrowful, but respectful candor, “Do you wish to be brought home?”

Simiel shook his head as he stumbled, his balance lost.

“There’s none who could heal my wounds even if you managed to carry me. Give me weapons, allow me to be of use one last time brother, so you may retrieve him and chance escape,” he pleaded.

Cas nodded and yelled, “Hannah! Retrieve Arariel’s weapons, bring them forth!”

She nodded and smote the remaining demons who’d been scratching at the ash left behind by Arariel. Bringing them over to Simiel she quickly knelt, holding his face she proudly stated, “It was an honor serving with you brother.”

He smiled at her painfully, and gave the tubes to Castiel. Shaking while he clutched the small bowls, he looked at him and declared, “This is the honorable death I choose. Let my name be spoken among the many well remembered for our deeds carried out as commanded by the Almighty Father.”

Castiel recited back, “And so it shall be remembered for eternity.”

He turned to the others to verify each had at least one tube, they could smite the wraiths and demons surrounding the boy but he suspected when he was removed from the platform the entire Ninth circle would descend. Their fight to get back home depended on defeating Hell’s last ditch effort.

“Simiel, thank you. Hold out as long as you can.”

Castiel and his remaining three soldiers put their backs to Simiel and delivered blow after blow to the wraiths as they attacked. Unlike the hellhounds, the wraiths gathered behind a few at a spear point. The three focused their power into one beam and flashes sparked as the wraiths were sent to oblivion. A few made it through, Jehoel grabbed his blades and engaged them so Castiel and Hannah could continue. Dean could hear his blades clashing and above them a loud humming could be heard. 

More wraiths were getting through, aided by the inner circle of demons deciding to take action rather than wait to be killed. Hannah and Cas pulled their blades and began hacking the wraiths down. Both were smiting and fighting alongside Jehoel. They heard a scream from behind them, Castiel turned briefly to see Simiel pulling against the power of two wraiths as they attempted to tear the other wing from him. “Goooo now!!!” he yelled at them, his face twisted in pain and resolution.

Castiel, Hannah, and Jehoel swept their wings and lifted themselves above the remaining wraiths and demons. Just as the last section of the brave angels' wing came off he cried and slammed the clay bowls into the ground with all the force his grace had left. Castiel felt the blast wave before he saw it, then green flames of Greek fire ignited and exploded like a tsunami across the landscape. The heat was unbearable, he swept his wings to get higher.

“Brother!!! You must get him now!!! We’ll hold them off as long as we can!!” Hannah screamed.

Castiel saw as the wave of green swept the hill, almost nothing remained. The few demons left who were surrounding the soul cringed from the light he emanated, yet were even more terrified of an angel descending upon them. They knew their time had ended as he focused his energy and lit them up like roman candles. 

With the platform clear, Castiel was relieved to collect the fearsome soul. He landed carefully and gracefully...softly tucking his wings behind him to seem less imposing, ever aware of souls who’d long forgotten their contact with celestial beings. He knelt on one knee and bowed his head in awe and reverence of Dean Winchester. This shifting green and silver shadow, looked like he’d gone a few rounds with a gatling gun. Black goo poured from his eyes, his mouth. Parts of him had clearly been removed in dismemberment. 

But he shrunk away in terror. Edges of him that were singed and filthy curled in on themselves. His light flickered and cut out.

Carefully reaching for Dean he gently asked, “Hello, Dean Winchester. Do you know me? I’m the one who’s called to you since the beginning.”

Dean remained silent and pulled back even farther.

Castiel stood, tilting his head and asked again, “Do you fear me? Or do you not yet understand? I’ve come to raise you from this dominion. You are saved, I bring you passage from this wasteland of darkness,” Castiel took a slow step forward.

Yet suddenly he heard Jehoel shout from above, “Brother, be quick! They are coming!”

Dean winced and scurried back even more along the platform. If he’d been intact in his vessel a drop from the height would’ve killed him with certainty.

“Please come with me Dean, I know this is confusing but we must leave now. Alistair is sure to come for you,” Castiel said urgently while reaching for him.

The name sent Dean scrambling off the platform and it was then Castiel realized how confused Dean was. He could barely see the angel let alone hear or understand him. Decades of torture had taken its toll, perhaps they’d even taunted him with this very trick of salvation, thousands of times. 

Castiel ran to the edge and saw him hanging by a large splintered piece that he must have broken away when he went over. It pierced through his hand completely and Dean was trying desperately to push himself off of it. Castiel could hear the wind again, it was full of pleasant humming from the cage.

“Castiel! Take him now! You must!” Jehoel yelled.

He reached down for Dean and bellowed, “Take my hand boy! I’ll bring you back to the light, just take my hand!”

But Dean saw himself turn his head, as if giving up entirely.

“NO!!!! You will not!!!” Cas ordered.

He pulled the splintered piece off the platform and lifted Dean as if he were nothing. As he held him, the twisted face of Alistair slithered from underneath the platform just below Dean's feet. He made a swipe for him, and Castiel pressed Dean against himself. 

Gripping Dean tight with his right arm, the boy screamed in reaction to a creature so holy and pure touching him. Castiel’s hand was scorching a mark on his shoulder and there was nothing for it, he would have to heal him when they were clear of this, if they got clear of this. Beginning to sweep upward, his wings beat small winds around them. He took his blade and threw but it missed Alastair's heart. The demon ripped it out of his billowing smoke of a body and jumped high enough to plunge it in Dean's left side before plummeting down to the platform. Castiel felt his soul go rigid in his arms as he climbed higher and met with Hannah and Jehoel.

“No!!! No! No!” Castiel cried.

He reached behind for his massive shield which covered Dean's form as he continued ascending higher. He looked down and could see the other two angels trying to keep pace, beyond that… a sea of demons covering the landscape they’d just escaped from. Smoke flew upwards to them, lightning was flashing down.

Castiel yelled to Hannah, “Use the weapons!”

He watched as each pulled out a silver tube and pushed the bottom of it against their hip. A button on the side with Enochian etchings was slid forward and Hannah angled her wings inward so she could spin in her ascent while wielding an enormous sword of Greek Fire. Jehoel did the same and immediately the sky above them cracked with thunder. The demons following them were incinerated, as were the ones who attempted attack from their flanks. Dean saw Cas look down at him, he was lifeless in his arms. The angel was so anxious to be gone from this place, to take him to the..’in between’. 

Please Dean, no!! Just hang on a little longer please, don’t go!

Each circle had a different sort of cloud cover surrounding its horizontal gate that felt so odd when passing through. Their ascent accelerated with urgency as Cas felt the soul in his arms losing it's battle. He heard a cry from below, but he could no longer turn to see which angel it came from. Fire was pouring all around them as they breached the sky gate from Seven to Six. Castiel's wings were once more burned and he lurched as the damage set in and slowed them down.

No! This cannot be! I’ve fought too hard to lose now!!!! I won’t give up, we have to keep going!!! 

Castiel saw purple, then red smoke swirling around them. He had no idea if Hannah and Jehoel were alive but the attempt to escape Hell was...well...going to Hell. Castiel was flying as fast as his broken and burned wings would carry him. The next gate felt like they were flying through acidic jello. The demons twisted and pulled at Cas’s wings, they weren’t going to make it. They had been so close, they’d almost breached the second realm into Limbo.

Then Cas got a crazy idea- he hoped that one or both of the angels below could hear him. He yelled repeatedly with no response. 

I have no choice, if I don’t get Dean out then the mission truly has failed, I will have failed. 

He pulled a silver tube out, bumping it against his hip and sliding the button he immediately aimed it downward. He issued a prayer that the other two were alive and heard him, as the Greek Fire ignited he felt the bottom of Castiel's wings ignite with it. The pain was beyond anything he could imagine, but it was propelling them upward at an incredible speed. He looked upward and could see the end of the Limbo tunnel to the outside world, the human domain, in front of him. Knowing each tube held three vials of the alchemi miracle, he lit the second one which clicked into place after the first one burned up. Fire was surrounding them from every direction, Castiel's wings left a trail of ash and flame behind as they rocketed past the Limbo gate onto the earthly plain in aerial spirals which allowed angels to fly at the speed of light. 

Hang on Dean, please!! We’ll be safe just please hang on! There was a freezing gust of air and then nothingness.

Will edit the "in between" tomorrow 

The sky was filled with stars and Castiel could see pale pink, orange, and indigo blue striping the horizon. The contrast was almost painful until his eyes adjusted. Slowly their surroundings came into focus. They were nestled in the caldera of a volcano. It bowled up like a cradle around them underneath the night sky. Cas threw his shield to his side, dropped his blade and fire weapon, and laid Dean ever so carefully on the fine indigo sand he’d been standing on. Castiel could smell the ash and still see puffs of smoke from the incendiary wounds on his wings, the pain should have blacked him out but his tenacious mind would not permit it.

“Dean! Wake up! I am an angel of the Lord and I command you to wake up! Please!” Castiel whispered, it may as well have been a shout.

He softly wiped some of the black mess from Dean's eyes and when he did, Dean's soul flickered, silver tendrils slowly uncurled and swathed around the more solid, intact sections of the emerald soul. Cas delicately removed the blade Alistair had delivered to his side. The form that lay in front of him flickered again, more strongly and Cas gasped, hoped. Just then he saw the blades' wound, where there had been solid form, there was now a blade shaped section that turned black and disintegrated into what looked like silt.

“Oh no, NO please no!!!” Cas howled in terror.

He moved to embrace Dean, but yanked his hands back immediately for fear of starting a chain reaction. The sorrow he felt was beyond words.

Castiel looked to the stars and pleaded, “Holy Father please!! No, don't let this happen!! He’s mine, he is the soul I asked you for! This is whom I was asked to save! I fought for years and years losing brothers and sisters to every manner of depravity and evil, they bravely fought and died for him! You deemed him worthy to save! Do not let their sacrifices be for nothing! Please I ask you to spare him, spare your child!”

Castiel put his hands out and pushed forth his grace. It seeped into every wound, every severed part of his torn form. As he did this his form flashed and pulsed, matching his grace. Castiel took his hands away and waited, a flicker….then nothing. 

Breaking down again, Castiel begged, “Almighty Father, power of this infinite universe! Please bring him back! Have faith in him, he can do the work you desire, look at him! I will guide him, I will bring him loyalty and companionship! Please!”

Even as he was grievously injured himself, Cas sat back and pushed forth his grace yet again. It pulsed and twisted into Dean, and his form flashed and pulsed right back. Castiel slumped over him and wailed.

“Father, you bring him back!!!! Does he not have a human family? Are they not heart sick for him?!!“ Castiel shouted as he rocked and shook over Dean's lifeless form, “I will not abandon him, I will guide him, I profess unto to you he will always have my companionship! I will love him Father! Please! I asked you, did you not hear? Was I not loud enough, or brave enough? Did I not relentlessly fight through every realm of Hell to do what you asked of me? Am I not worthy? I asked you Father, he is the soul! My soul! I will love him, I do love him already. I have loved him….please!”

After a time, Castiel laid down, too exhausted to even sit up. He'd remained beside his beloved soul, which had changed, looked more solid now?  
He was relieved but overwhelmed with many other emotions. Sorrow, relief, exhaustion, anger, protectiveness, disappointment, and most of all-a fierce love. Dean was weightless, Cas carried him as if holding a towel draped over his arms. 

They were traveling down the slope of the volcano to home. This place was beautiful, the sky was a strange combination of colors. Looking up, a majority of the sky was a burnt orange and the sun was massive. Its brightness was in such contrast to earth though, despite the ability to see everything with alarming clarity it was very dim.The horizon in all 360° degrees was a completely different color. The burnt orange of the sky faded and gave way to a brilliant turquoise hue which had stars more vivid than he’d ever seen in any other constellation. Some brightened and dimmed, some were close enough to witness their flares.

There were gleaming yellow mountains in nearly every direction, Castiel took a path which led to foothills. The foothills would be Alps in comparison to the ranges Earth knew. The mountains on this alien landscape were infinitely more large than anything he’d ever seen, than anything he could ever conjure in his wildest imagination. 

Castiel carried him through the foothills for a very long time, until the sky had changed to a purplish navy color, oranges and pinks were now appearing along the horizon. A sphere with green and white striations, similar to Jupiter was rising. He could feel Dean awaken in his arms, marveling at the heavens above. Castiel spoke to him in Enochian, explaining it wasn’t a moon. It was the rising of the second star in their binary system. This was the Morning Star constellation and the sun would take approximately two earth months to rise and set.

Flashes of time went by, they spent days out in the open, traveling along landscapes that were stunning and unbelievable. Once in a great while Dean said he glimpsed what could’ve been city skylines, but it was hard for him to tell where occasional cloud cover ended and they began. He’d never seen structures such as these, some of them floated and blended into the very environment as if invisible. Castiel felt joy when hearing his reactions.

During this time of travel Castiel became acquainted with Dean, he was so content having his companionship. He could feel Dean's love for him, his pride as he very slowly recovered from his wounds. Cas possessed vast amounts of knowledge by comparison, but not once did he feel pity, impatience, or even boredom in his company. In fact, as they became more acquainted, he treasured Dean’s impressions and insight about this world, and enjoyed listening to his heart whenever thoughts went to Sam, Bobby, and all others he held dear back home. 

Cas found Dean to be uncomplicated, simple, truthful, full of passionate love, curiosity, and wonder. These were characteristics he considered of great value, and Dean was in awe to learn his angel viewed HIM as a hero, a soul of powerful faith in the connections he shared. Cas longed for that kind faith so deeply, and yet was immensely thankful to just know his human, this shining example he hoped to someday emulate.

Castiel's love for him never wavered, but grew stronger as days turned to months. They finally came to fields as far as the eye could see, all were a brilliant green. The grass blew in a never ending, comfortable breeze towards a hill on the horizon. On the hill was the most gargantuan structure Dean had ever beheld in all his life. It managed to glint even in the dim sunlight, a vivid pale blue and pewter shade, which in some areas looked almost transparent. It was far more wide than tall, had no windows, and yet it clearly allowed a wonderful amount of light in. 

The shape of the structure was similar to a crown, and had spires which twisted for what looked like miles into the sky. A sort of peace washed over Castiel as he reached for Dean's hand. When they touched, it was soul and grace mingling, they both beamed at one another as the surprising intimacy of it washed through them, causing immense joy. The touch of grace and soul felt like sparks igniting back and forth between them with far greater strength than they might back on earth. In this land, their truest selves needed no vessel or barrier from this connection, this realm really was an “in between”, a place completely outside hell, heaven, and earth.

He mentioned a word to Dean in Enochian, it vibrated in his soul like a familiar note from a guitar string...it meant home. He was feeling shy, apprehensive about showing Dean his home, their home. Castiel was most excited to show him his library, the room was so tall and had shelves so high he couldn't see an end. Stone tablets, some ancient and some new, lined these shelves. Castiel was pleased to show him some at his height which he could understand.

More flashes of time flew by and Dean loved resting outside on a comfortable looking couch swing? It was large and Dean passed many a happy day outside reading or be read to by Castiel. Dean's soul was still tremendously damaged, yet little by little he could see minor improvements.

Dean's favorite times to be outside coincided with the rising of the second sun. Castiel often took him over the hillside to a beautiful lake, where the beaches had indigo sand lined with trillions of diamond like stones that illuminated when the sphere was at its highest. They’d sit there and star gaze for ages, watching shimmering streaks of silver and blue shooting across the sky. Castiel adored enjoyed Dean’s inquisitive mind and was happy when sitting on the beach asking for stories about the stars, their systems, and how they came to be.

During times of restfulness for Dean, when his soul would temporarily be powered down to heal, he'd take him to another area of their home to work on him. His body had been far more injured than he’d ever realized. Castiel approached the healing with the fortitude of a skilled surgeon, but with the compassion and care of someone deeply in love. Once in a while reality would hit and a profound melancholy would set it, knowing their time there would not last forever, but he took comfort in the knowledge he’d be his guardian on earth until he was destined to transition and enter heaven. 

Months and months passed happily for them, Dean was slowly healing and often they’d spend time in union, their soul and grace blissfully intertwining. It was powerful for Cas, as it was a spiritual form of making love. The sensations were every bit as pleasurable as physically making love but very different because there were no vessels involved. They were layered and intermingled, knowing each other in every way imaginable. Castiel spoke to him with such kindness, patience and love. 

Whenever the second sun would approach its cycle he’d shower Dean with love and praise, calling him his beloved Morning Star, because he favored this time in the sky, and would always call him Sunshine. 

They existed in light and love, the elation they felt at finding each other, falling in love was the most peaceful in all of Castiel's existence. Soul and grace couldn't hide anything from each other, not in this realm or any other. Cas KNEW Dean loved him back just as much. The truth of their bond was clear and bright, and was reflected back within each other.

Occasionally, Cas would be summoned and didn't want to answer. It persisted and finally during one of Dean's “power naps”, Naomi appeared while he was working on Dean's body.

“Why have you ignored me Castiel?” she asked with irritation in her voice.

“I’ve received no orders, no revelation for sometime. It's always been clear when you want something..you ask, otherwise you're content to pretend I don't exist,” he replied, not looking up from his work.

“You’ve spent far too long here with your... human.”

That statement elicited resentment, “I’ve spent far too long here period. Why are you concerned now? To what do I owe this visit?”

“You're to return him. He’s needed back on earth.”

“You need him back on earth?”

“His brother does, he’s not faring well with the grief of losing him.”

“This wouldn't happen to coincide with the time frame of the prophecy?” he freely accused.

“His brother is suffering greatly Castiel, it's time he goes back!”

“Where was your concern for his brother when he died? When his brother, who knew he'd be going to Hell, was suffering over what he thought must have been happening to him down there?! Is he in such mourning that he’s ill and the vessel is at risk of dying before your precious prophecy can be fulfilled? Your timing is quite telling. Don't use faithless excuses to justify to ME the need for his return! I’ll bring him myself, but don't you dare pretend it's out of concern for anything but your precious plan!”

“You won’t bring him back. Fate will not play out as it's meant to with you tethered to him through the affiliation you share,” she clarified with condemnation.

Castiel’s grace flickered as a human's heart would if told they’d be having their soulmate ripped away.

“You can't mean what you're saying. He’s my soul, we’re bonded..I must bring him back and remain with him, guide him in our Father’s work. I promis-, he’s my responsibility. I’ll stay with him to do as heaven commands, that's what you want, right?”

“No. It never was. It was never the plan for him to stay away this long. It is not our problem you developed this attachment. You made that choice on your own, Castiel. I won’t reap the consequences from your choice, I simply have to ensure your compliance with heaven's orders. You'll wipe him and hand him over. Are we clear?!”

Castiel was falling apart. “I can't...I..can you not understand? You're not bonded...you cannot know what you ask of me. I can’t!” he firmly stood his ground while horrific panic and fear set in.

“I cannot, nor do I ever want to! He will go back, and he will do so with no memory of this...whatever it is you two do here.”

“I…can’t, no...no.” It was as if his entire existence was being twisted and shattered. All he ever wanted was a companion. Someone to love and guide. He’d been punished for asking, and now punished again for having, Dean was being taken from him.

“You can’t? Or won’t?” she asked, already with her plan in place.

“I won’t.”

“Very well, you leave me no choice. Both of you will be wiped. Michael will have no trouble convincing him of what must be done.”

The floor felt like it was being yanked out from under him. He would rather suffer an eternity of loss, but keep his memories. Bottom line, if he didn't remember Dean then nobody would help him fight when he’d need it most. He wouldn't be able to say no to Michael, he might not even if Cas was with him, but he had to try to get to him somehow. At least if Cas remembered, then he could find a way of staying close to Dean. 

The pain though of his human...his soul, not remembering what they shared the last few years was blinding. Four years of blissful, happy, loving marriage would be lost, shattered, ripped apart when neither party would wish it so. The brutal injustice of what had been done to both of them made it hard to breathe.

“No...I’ll do it. Fine. I’ll do it,” Castiel relented, feeling like he was committing murder, for he really was in a sense.

“You have one earth day. Then bring him to us, as I’ve asked.“ The heartless bitch disappeared, leaving him incalculably broken.

He stood next to his work bench for a long time, paralyzed in sorrow and fear. He’d known the day would eventually come when Dean returned to his brother, but Cas expected he would be returning him, memories included. Suddenly, Dean awakened on his work bench. Castiel immediately shut down anything threatening to bubble up and create panic. Even as his celestial heart was breaking he kept Dean's happiness and well being a priority. Cas smiled at him with such love and devotion.

“Mornin' Sunshine," Dean grinned at him. 

To which Castiel replied, “Morning Star,” with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

Dean glanced at himself, asking, “Am I alright?”

Cas was amazed at how calm Dean was with seeing his body, especially the shape it was in. He was a disaster really, natural injuries were easy to heal, but hellhounds are a completely different story. He’d done what he could, but he would have to hand his body over to heaven's most skilled to get it ready in time to, he couldn't think of it without losing his composure.

“No Dean, but you will be, I promise,” he reassured him, pulling him into a tight hug. Cas was crumbling inside, how was he expected to let go of his soulmate, his husband?

“Why're you sad? What's goin' on?” Dean wondered.

“It’s time Dean. Time to go.”

“I don’t like how sad you are Cas. You’re coming too right?”

“I will be with you, yes. Always.”

“Then why are you so sad?”

“Our time here is precious Dean, I will miss it greatly.”

“But we’ll be together, that's all that matters.”

“Yes, we will be together.”

“It's time to rest a little more Dean. I’ll sit with you awhile.”

They walked back to their living quarters, Dean rested against him while he was desperately trying to think of another way around this. Part of him wanted to flee, take refuge in another dimension. He knew they'd be found though and the punishment would involve them both. That would be unacceptable. There really was nothing to be done. Cas's shining form was shaking as he reached toward him.

“Dean, I’m so sorry. My love for you is eternal even if you can’t remember, it surrounds you always. Please understand, I can’t live without one of us knowing the truth and you deserve to have your family back. I hate letting you go like this...love you so very much. These have been the best years for me, because of you, thank you."

Castiel stifled a cry and pushed through.

"You're the light of my universe. The answer to my prayer was beyond what I could have ever dreamed of. I promise to watch over you from afar. If..i-if you find someone in this life that brings you h-happiness, it's okay, I want that happiness for you. I forgive you for not remembering me, if we ever meet again. I love you forever."

Castiel's light was shaking everywhere as he touched his forehead. He was certain a blade was plunging into him as the memories were no more. Dean stood in a trance while Castiel led him to a side door. It was so very, very dark down the hall. There weren't tears enough for what had been done to them.

Before sending him through the door, Castiel kissed his forehead, then gave him one last kiss on his lips with a breath of grace and commanded, “Rise now, my Morning Star.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from my first major fic I wrote a few years ago and I've been wanting to string the scattered pieces of it together so it sees the light of day(hopefully). Although it's heavily edited from its original format, it may disqualify me from this month's challenge. So be it.

**Author's Note:**

> The style of writing in chapter 1 was inspired by Demonologist-in-denim's fine work of Burgamot & Sulfur, a lovely collection of Crowley-centric vignettes that I've fallen in love with. Please go give it a read and kudos!


End file.
